From Beyond the South Seas : Vengeance
by Flaks the Third
Summary: As violent storms churn the Southern Seas, a lonely archipelago falls under the rule of a malicious tyrant queen. Along with her farseer Glathir, Valatha's goal for vengeance against all woodlanders has begun it's first stage. But there is more at hand..
1. Prologue

[[**Before reading - I would like to note that this is my first attempt at this sort of thing and I would -really- appreciate any sort of review/critique, it would help me have a good idea as to how you, the reader, find the story.**]]

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><p><em>To my dear friend and bright-furred companion Glathir,<em>

_Please be sure to execute your messenger immediately upon receiving this message as it is only to be seen by your eyes. The persistent attempts by the local rebelbeasts has caused me to take a few 'extra precautions' to ensure that our intentions are not found out ahead of time. With compliments to your previous foresight - we managed to intimidate the last tribe on Ashgrove Isle without having to shed a single drop of sweat or mangle a single paw. As eager as our warriors are getting, reserving our resources for the second stage of our plan is now top priority. From now onwards you are to keep that mind's eye of yours wide open and look for any good omens that I can use to rouse their belief in me. Re-kindling this fire , we should have enough time to plan and announce our next move ahead of schedule and begin our advance from the Southwards' border and move in through Mossflower Woods and beyond. We will rampage through their forests like a dreaded plague and our victory will be absolute!_

_I ask that you come to my chamber this night when the moon reaches it's peak in order to meet with me and tell me what you have seen. I am resting assured that you will have very clear and very promising visions and know very well that it is in your best interest. Leave your assistant behind during this visit, the last thing I need is a petulant little ferret in my private chamber. For now? Rest easy knowing that your contribution will be our road to victory._

_The day fast approaches. May your omens bring doom to anybeast in our way and your visions of continued victories in our name be true,_

_Valatha the Everlasting._

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><p>Darkness enshrouded the Isle of Madness, dark clouds gathering overhead and suffocating the moon's light. As the rain pelted the islands within the Archipelago of Discord, the flash of lightning illuminating both the darkened sky and the islands below. The loud crash of thunder echoed through the halls of the Palace of the Everlasting - Nightshadow Hold. As the wind howled loudly through the narrow corridors that spread throughout the stronghold, another sound could be heard. Two sets of paws making their way briskly into the main hall, the sound of their scraping against the rough stone floor. Both beasts were obscured by grey robes, hoods draped over their heads and a short sword within it's scabbard attached to the belt of the taller beast. the taller one would occasionally stop, and inhale the dank and dusty air, searching for the scent of a watcher.<p>

After a few moments, they had arrived to the carved oak door leading into the mess hall, both beasts stopping in front of it, but neither reaching out to open the door. The taller beast stepped to the side, reaching out and grasping one of the few unlit torches in the hall and giving it a sharp pull. The distant echo of a lever mechanism could be heard, as the stone wall seemed to come unhinged and slowly open. The larger figure gazed down at the other before removing a single torch from the wall and handing to him and without a single word nor motion, waited for him to enter and closed the hidden door behind him, standing guard. The lone beast now ascended a single flight of stairs before making his way through a narrow passage, stepping over the traps that had been carefully laid and arriving at a dead end. In-front of the wall was a pedestal, holding up the statue of a Pine Marten - relatively short in stature yet standing in a triumphant pose - paws on his hips, his eyes socketed with two circular red gems that seemed to give off an eerie glisten within the torch's light.

An uneasy murmur would leave the beast's lips before he would reach out to press a single paw finger upon the statue's left eye, another clicking being heard before the wall in front of him seemed to also unhinge, a dim light emerging from the other side. The beast gazed up above the passageway, spotting a slot to place his torch in and setting it in place, before slowly placing his paws upon the hidden door. Giving a single push, it opened.

The sound of the hidden door's opening was obscured by the loud rumble following the clash of thunder, allowing the beast to enter his destination - the chamber of Valatha. The room itself was not too immense in size, but spacious none the less. The room was decorated with an assortment of trophies, mounted blades, tapestries and the most chilling of all; the mounted heads of many different beasts upon the red walls of the chamber. The floor itself one of the few wooden floors within the stronghold and it definitely showed signs of regular cleaning and scrubbing. A single barred window overlooking the vast reaches of the sea, and set under it's ledge was a single alcove for her to lounge about. Valatha's four poster bed was far from neatly set, but it was decorated in such a way so foreign to her tastes, it was surely stolen from another. And finally, there was a desk, a bottle of ink set aside, and it's quill seemingly missing. And there, sitting upon an old ornate seat, a single paw digging it's claws into an alabaster armrest, sat a tall forest polecat, her dark brown eyes set upon an open book in front of her, ink staining the front of her red and black silk dress and her lips shaped into a chilling frown. There sat Valatha, quill in hand, the black-hearted Queen of the Archipelago of Discord.

Valatha's gaze would slowly move from the book to the corner of her eye, her ears letting loose a single flick as she clearly hear someone coming up behind her, the sound of the beast's paws upon the wooden floors had been evident. Knowing better then to startle a dangerous beast, he spoke up in his rather gravelly and slimy voice "It is I, Glathir." he whispers, raising a single paw instinctively, clearly fearing she might not believe him. His other paw would move to tug his hood back, revealing a light brown pine marten. Both his stature and the eerie glisten within his black eyes matching the statue he used to access her chamber. A peculiar old scar marked his snout, trailing from his chin to nose, sharp but visible, having cut the lip rather badly.

Valatha slowly pull her chair back, rising from it and turning to gaze upon Glathir, her frown turning into an oddly alluring smile. Her expression was that of relief, her arms slowly crossing over her chest as she spoke, her voice containing a tinge of dignity and elegance, though her verminous nature was still 'shining' through. "Your haste pleases me, Glathir. It has been far too long since we have met to discuss our next move." she says, her gaze moving from him to the hidden passage he had come from, making her way towards it. "With Ashgrove Isle now under our dominion, we have a significant amount of beasts under our control. In particular the seabeasts you...foretold might have significant interest in us." she says, slowly stopping half-way through the passage he had travelled through, having reached the very edge of the torch's light. "I trust you have seen visions of our mainland invasion." she points out, her eyes attempting to meet his own, clearly wanting to look for the slightest hint that he may be lying. Glathir would have been following her closely, and quickly found himself looking back at her, his lids narrowing as he would speak slowly and clearly, attempting to make his point "I have seen what I have seen. Our plans are - as of yet - unknown, but a significant resistance awaits. But I foresee that a time of shaking earth, cold winds and violent storms comes." he says, his final words punctuated by the clash of thunder echoing from the outside."We must act quickly if we to make our demands, I cannot predict the exact day that each shall occur, but I foresee fear shall wrack the lands if we time this correctly." he utters, a little smile gracing his lips. Valatha would share his smile, chuckling to herself at this thought. A hearty, happy chuckle. Nothing pleased her more then inflicting fear on others, a 'favor' she longed to return to many of the woodland creatures.

Another dull rumble filled the beasts' ears as they climbed up a ladder, leading to a trapdoor at the top of the stronghold, a sweeping view of the archipelago laying in front of them. Valatha stood at the ledge, paws upon her hips as she observed her 'kingdom', ignoring the rain beating down upon her, a wild grin forming on her features. "Fear shall weaken our enemies, weaken them enough to either surrender or perish before us." she confirmed, a certain degree of energy within her words, like she was giving a speech to rouse her soldiers "Glathir, your foresight has helped me fool and delude many. Because of you, they see me as untouchable, everlasting, unbreakable!" she says, cackling to herself. Clearly she was finding it very amusing "Beasts believe you can summon storms, make the earth shake beneath their paws, and smite down their young ones with my skybound wrath." she says, her eyes turning up to the sky, at the flashing and rippling of lightning within it, illuminating different portions of the sky, and the different islands below.

"You are the instrument of their demise, they believe you are a beast of magic, the blasted scum believe you are like I. Untouchable." she says, placing a paw on her own chest, the wild look within her eyes intensifying. Glathir was simply standing there, watching her curiously, unable to help but admire his friend's enjoyment. She spoke once more, bounding her way up to him and roughly grasping his scruff,pulling her snout uncomfortable close as she uttered "You and I, friend. Are going to ravage the Southwards, then burn Mossflower to ashes, flatten the badger lords of Salamandastron and blight the Northlands." she utters, pushing him away shortly after, Glathir stumbling back a tad before speaking up, enthusiasm clearly showing "And then, we will usher in a new age of pain and misery to all those who wronged us." he said, moving by her side to look out at the islands, the gleam within his eyes sparked brighter as he gazed upon each one as it was illuminated by the lightning. Valatha would move by his side, placing a paw upon his shoulder as she looked out into the distance, a sneer forming as she would give off a little growl "Ripe and bloody vengeance will be ours."


	2. Chapter 1

Dawn's first rays illuminated the valley in which was nestled the village of Hearthbrook. Many of it's dwellers had already stirred, leaving their homes to start their daily duties. Some having fields to tend to, others opening their businesses and others setting up stalls to sell at the market. A few weary travelers had left the local Leaf and Holly in to continue their long journeys elsewhere, and the local guard had begun it's usual rounds. The village itself was rather small, with little more then a hundred beasts having settled down to live there. The day's dawn brought with it the usual daily chatter, greetings being exchanged and idle conversations being started. Even a little argument once in a while would spike the air, filling the rather cold and breezy air with a pleasant drone. It was this that a young mouse maid by the name of Heather Strikepaw awoke to.

Her vision filled with the light coming from the window above her bed, coming into focus as she slowly sat up, clad in a white gown - the bed's snow white sheets laying flat over her legs as she would gaze out, rubbing a paw through her grey fur as she scratched an itch behind her left ear, gazing outside rather curiously, a pleasant smile upon her lips, and her tired eyes half shut. The young adult mouse was always fond of spending a few moments each morning simply observing things from above - having made it into a daily routine to help her awaken.

After a few moments of blissful relaxation, a knocking came from her door, the warm voice of her father speaking up "Heather! Are you up, sweet one?" he asked, receiving a reply almost immediately as Heather slowly got off her bed, knowing that she had to get to work soon. "Yes, father, I was simply getting dressed." she said, bluffing to him. "Ah, that's my Heather. Listen, Herst told me to meet him first thing this morning. Shan't be to long - so make sure you open up before I get back." he says, promptly making his way downstairs. He seemed to be rather in a hurry, so Heather decided to quickly change to a more appropriate green dress and make her way downstairs, beginning the usual morning ritual.

She was soon busy at work making breakfast for her father and herself. After setting the table in the back room for him, she took her mug of tea and a bowl of porridge as she made her way into the Forge, settling the two down upon the counter and settling herself behind it. She took a moment to have a sip of her tea and a few mouthfuls of porridge, filling her belly up and giving her a bit of energy. Her gaze would soon be averted to the door as she heard the front door opening and the ringing of the bell set above it, giving her time to examine whomever was coming in.

A young badger and his brown otter companion made their way in, both of them clad in a tunic, chainmail vest and coif , and of course - a green tabard baring Hearthbrook's crest, a lit hearth, warm steam rising from it. A belt tied around their waists seemed to lack any sort of adornment - not even a scabbard or any sort of weapon. The two were conversing with one another, sharing a hearty laugh as they made their way to the counter. The badger was the first to speak, giving a smile to the mouse maid as he stopped infront of the counter "Good morning, Heather - our sweet and beautiful sword-crafting, axe-sharpening lass." he says, giving her a rather sheepish grin as he seemed to adapt an over-pandering tone, dripping with sweet-talk. Heather would soon be on to him, giving him a rather smug look as she playfully flicks his nose, startling Harold and nearly making him back up into the otter. "Your blade is nearly done Harold - you clumsy stripehound. I was surprised that you did not end up bending it like Old Rigsby's back this time." she says, teasing him a tad before gazing back at the otter, who had managed to right himself and arrange his tabard. "I AM afraid that yours may take a little while longer Dreng. I still cannot wrap my mind around how you managed to completely bend and chip it like that!" she says, her voice addled with surprise. The otter would soon look at her, giving a rather nervous chuckle before he attempted to excuse himself "W-well me s-sword was a tiny bit soft an' all! Someone must 'ave put rocks in the training dummy, field was sodding wet too! S-Slipped and hurt me behind a few times." he says, his expression portraying the pinnacle of innocence. Heather would still look upon him with a disapproving frown, still not convinced even after his explanation. Dreng would quickly shrug his shoulders, looking a bit more disdained "Ooooh, b-but I needs me sword tonight! C-Chiefy said he'd knock me block off he would." he says, fearing another talking-down to by the Captain.

Harold would snicker as his friend seemed to be panicking, moving to pat his back. The rough pat would literally make the otter jolt forth, almost making him slam snout-first into the counter. "Cheer up, lad. I'm sure Heather has a cunning plan in store already." he says, sounding rather confident. Heather would have been scratching her own chin, thinking for a moment before rolling her eyes, speaking back to Dreng "Ooohh, alright. I can let you borrow one of the other swords we have in stock, but bring it back in one piece tomorrow night, I should have yours ready by then. Father would be awfully cross with me if I were to lose it." she points out "And I would probably clip your whiskers for it." She adds, choosing to tease the otter a bit. Dreng seemed to perk up upon hearing her words, smiling from ear to ear as he was assured a sword "Oh! Bless ye' 'eather! Can't thank you enough for this 'un. Saved me neck you did." he says, stroking the back of it, the painful memory of being thwacked in the back of the neck by the flat of the Captain's pike returning.

Heather would nod to them both, slowly making her way across the forge to a pile of crates. She reached into an open one and hoisted out a single sword, offering it to the otter whom took a moment to test it out. Turning back to Harold, she would offer him a smile "I guess you can't go back empty-handed either. I think I can make your day." She says, gesturing for him to follow her over to another one of the crates, removing a spiked flail from it. Harold's eyes would grow as wide as the full moon before he reaches out to grasp it by the handle, examining the weapon. "By the claw! I've always wanted to use one of these." he says, turning back to her "Y-you think I could have it? Maybe...learn to use it?" he ponders, staring at the weapon. Heather nods to him, placing her paw on the handle along with him, trying to show him the correct way to wield it. Surprisingly, he seemed to know it.

"Father used to wield one of these. I think he'd be proud to come back and find me wielding it." he says, examining it's quality. Heather would promptly speak up , wanting to explain "Father showed me how to make it, this is my first one. Think of it as a gift - for helping me out of that well last season." She says, recalling the rather uncomfortable incident. Harold would smile at this, moving to pat her shoulder and thank her "Heather, you are the best friend a beast could have." he says, returning her smile and staring at her for a moment. Dreng in the meantime watches curiously, deciding to break them up in order to leave on time "Well before we get all 'ugs and kisses, we should get going." he says, tugging at the back of Harold's coif "Fleg'd have us be the training dummies if we're late." he points out. Harold nods to him, turning to Heather once more "I will have to pay your father later today, thank you." he says, rushing out with Dreng. Heather watches them leave, still quite amused by the two. She never grew tired of their visits, and her father seemed to enjoy the idea of regular customers - though he did wish they would stop causing so much trouble.

The noon sun soon shined overhead, basking the village with it's warm glow. The wind had calmed since the early morning, though it's cold presence still chilled many beasts, and made a clear impression. The winter season was fast approaching, and soon the weather would be far colder. Many beasts found the breeze rather pleasant, a change from the hot summer they had experienced. By now, many beasts would be gossiping to one another, the topic of the day being a strange shaking that had feel felt a few moments before noon though many beasts having denied even feeling it. The village's chapel had been open for the day, and there knelt in front it's steps a little brown-furred mouse, clad in light brown robes and looking rather lost.

He was bent forward, grasping a stick as he seemed to be drawing in the dirt, passing the time. He was not the only orphan around, nor the only little one playing in the square, but he had found himself being alone that day. His friends were off playing elsewhere and had forgotten to invite him, and he in turn was simply passing his time. The young mouse had been under the care of Father Farnsworth, caretaker of the local chapel for most of his life now, having been brought in by one of the villagers during his return from elsewhere, claiming to have found the little one alone in an abandoned cottage. James had been living in relative peace since then and while he did go off on a rocky start, coming off as a bit of a mischievous one, he seemed to have found his place.

Eventually growing bored of his scribbling, he would slowly look about, his eyes catching a familiar beast. James had gotten to know Heather rather early - her being as young as he was then when he was brought in, and volunteered to help take care of him. A sly smirk graced his lips as he would get up and watch her pass by, carrying a basket of strawberries back home. Sneaking up behind her, stick in hand, he proceeded to make sure he made a suitable entrance. He prodded her back with the stick, quickly rushing out of her view as she looked behind her, standing her way as she turned, nearly startling her into dropping her basket as she turned. "Oh! James, you rascal , you nearly made me drop it!" She says, frowning down at the little mouse. James would give an innocent shrug, though the fact that he had neglected to throw away the stick betrayed his innocence. "It wasn't me, Heather, maybe it was a ghost." he pointed out, giving her a nod. Heather would raise a brow, slowly leaning towards him and taking the stick from his paw, smiling as she would wave it in front of him, chuckling "Really? Well I think I may have found my ghost!" she says, snickering at him. James would give off a bout of nervous laughter before trying to bolt off only to have his ear pinched by Heather, gazing down at him "Now, will you stop playing those silly tricks on people, you might hurt someone!".

James would wait for her to let go before rubbing his ear, turning back to her "I aught to - but come on! You cannot say that wasn't funny." he says, giving a big grin , showing off those teeth of his. Heather would shake her head, prodding him right on the nose "No. Well..."she says, smiling just a little bit "Well...I suppose it was a little funny." she says, giggling to him "B-But don't do it again! It would be a pity if someone dropped something important." she says, moving to pat the little mouse between his ears, a little snicker leaving him. He was clearly liking it. "A-Are you going to stop over here later? Maybe we can play a bit! Or climb the bell-tower." he says, sounding rather excited at these prospects. Heather would seem silent for a moment, gazing down at her basket "Well...I think I can see about it, I am sure I will be free tonight, before dinner." she points out, nodding to him. She clearly enjoyed spending time with the little one, feeling that he was like a younger sibling to her. He felt likewise, and would promptly hug her skirt , smiling broadly "Oh! Thank you!" he says, his eyes opening for a moment in order to look away, perking an ear up "I think I think Father Farnsworth is calling. I should go." He says, rushing off and waving back to her, calling out "See you at the top! "he says, rushing off. Heather watches the excited little mouse rush off into the chapel, turning around to make her way back some, giggling to herself.

As night sweeps over the valley, silence falls. The villagebeasts, many tired from a long day's work, head back into their homes to eat. A fresh supper awaiting them, and a full belly for the rest of the night. The sun had almost set, the sky painted a rosy-orange as the last hours of the day set in. Heather - as promised, visited James after finishing her duties and spent some time with the little mouse, eventually ending up having a chat atop of the bell tower, staring out into the distance. "Heather, have you ever traveled out there?" James pondered, gazing out towards the northbound hills. Shaking her head, the mouse maid replied "Only once, when I was little I accompanied Harold to the edge of yonder hill to see his father off." she says, recalling the day she had accompanied her close friend along with many other villagers to see him off and bid him farewell. He had left in order to follow his wife to Salamandastron, and left their only son behind to stay safe with another family. Harold had been hopeful to see him return soon, though no word had come through. James, having heard about this, speaks up "Do you think he will ever come back? What is it like over there?" he pondered, gazing up at her curiously.

Heather would chuckle at him, leaning back against a wooden stock "Oh I am sure he will, he is a mighty warrior badger. From what I have heard he could take on any beast that tries to delay him." she says, James seeming to sit up upon hearing this, the thought of a mighty warrior trekking the land seemed wondrous to him. "As for what we saw...my, it was quite beautiful. A beautiful land of green, much like our valley. If you looked hard, I think you can see Castle Floret in the distance!" she says, trying to excite the mouse. IT was working, James was nearly hopping in anticipation "Really? W-what lies beyond that?" he pondered. Heather would continue to explain, just as excited "Well I hear there a mysterious forest beyond that known as Mossflower, filled with all sorts of different beasts, and dangerous places to visit. To the west, there is the massive home of the Badger Lords, where-" she explains, her exciting recollection seemingly stopping as she noticed James was no longer excited, no longer looking at her and no longer smiling.

His gaze was pinned towards something in the distance, and upon turning to stare at it herself, Heather gives off a shocked gasp. In the distance came a vibrant glow, approaching the village steadily. The glow of the torches formed snake like pattern, and a massive army of beasts marched their way towards the settlement. The two mice could hear the sounds of cheering and vile, almost mocking laughter erupting from it. Fear gripped the two of them as they huddled close, the little mouse hiding himself in Heather's bosom to seek comfort, fearful of what seemed to be coming. Heather could only look at it, her jaw agape, awestruck by it. She had heard of the terrors of vermin hordes in the past, of legions of angry beasts gathering to destroy and conquer anything in their way. But even she had not imagined it would be this large - nor this organized. She could see something at the head of them all, a circle being formed around a particular set of individuals. The fires reflected off the plate armor many of the beasts wore, and it was not difficult to see -as they got closer, that many of them were very well armed and wearing a decent amount of protective armor.

Heather could hear the shouts of the guards as they barked out orders, staying at the ready as the village was alerted. For the first time - Heather could hear the bells being rung, the warning bells around the gates, and the rallying bells of the bell tower - the bell-ringer calling out to the two to get down immediately. Wincing from the noise, both mice make their way down, rushing out towards the gates, where most of the towns folk had gathered, curious as ever as to what was happening. Harold and Dreng had both been at the ready, gazing down at the approaching legion of beasts, awestruck not only by it's numbers - but by it's members. Amongst them stood many mice, otters, dormice and even squirrels. All clad in the same armor and armed with an assortment of weapons. Some were even in the latter ranks, wielding bows and arrows, many of them looking either pained or frightened.

Dreng would elbow Harold's side, whispering to him , anxiety in his voice "A-Are those...'ellteeth, what are they up to?" he uttered. Harold looked back at him briefly, whispering back as he held his weapon at the ready, "I don't know...I think we are about to find out." he points out, watching as they all come to a stop right outside of the gates. Strangely enough, none of them seemed to be attacking. None of them raised their weapons, and fewer of them seemed to have their weapons unsheathed. At the head of the legion was a single circle of armed guardians, each wielding massive shields at the ready alongside their blades, clearly guarding the trio in the middle.

Two of the guardians moved aside, allowing one of the trio to step out, a red fox clad in a grey robe with scroll in paw advanced into the village's makeshift gate and towards the crowd. Heather was near the front of the crowd, alongside her father. She could barely make out whom else the guards were guarding at first, until they had moved side. She could clearly see a pine marten dressed in a similar grey robe, though his appeared to have one key difference. The symbol upon the front of his robe. The rough image of a castle, seemingly having been set alight. A hooded beast seemingly sitting above it all. It was a strange and disturbing image, the significance unknown to her. It invoked a sense of dread upon her, clearly aware these beasts had destructive intentions, but this one appeared to have a specific purpose. Her eyes - like those of many of the others - were cast upon the lone fox, who had stopped, and called out to them.

"The Herald of Valatha the Everlasting, Queen of the Isle of Madness, Conqueror of the South Seas and Bringer of Death and Despair, demands to speak to your leader." he says, speaking rather plainly and rather coldly, sounding very well rehearsed. A smug smirk had formed upon the fox's lips, one that no one else shared. After a few moments, the crowd seemed to step aside for an elderly dormouse, clad in a yellow tunic and leather jerkin. He stopped a steps in front of the fox and crossed his arms over his chest, taking a defensive posture as he spoke. "That would be I. Speak your peace, fox." he says, putting as much courage as he could muster into his words. The fox would clear his throat, pointing to him almost accusingly before speaking. "In Valatha's name, you have been given the honor of surrendering to us." he says, opening up his scroll as he reads from it "You will surrender to us immediately and without hesitation. Upon surrendering your homes will be dismantled and your food and water to be taken along with us. Any able beasts you have will join us and fight within her army, and your maidens and little ones will act as servants. They will be kept safe, fed and alive. If you agree . If not, our mistress shall call upon her powerful servants to turn the very elements against you." he recited, closing the scroll and gazing across at the villagers.

Each seemed to be sharing different expressions. Many of them seemed utterly mortified, while others seemed to be curious now, if not a bit apprehensive. Hardly a moment passed before the dormouse spoke up. "We will need time to think this over. You are asking a lot of us." he says, the fox quickly retorting "We are asking enough. Surrender. Now." he demands. The reply he received was a hail of rocks, and angry cries from the villagers, who did not seem too keen on being taken in and their freedom taken away. The fox was hit right between the ears, falling back onto the grass, completely unmoving. As one of the soldiers moved to drag the fox away, insults and threats began to fly from any of the soldiers at the front, a very loud and very obscene shouting session beginning right there at the gates. It was not long before one of the soldiers, intimidated as he was, grasped his sword by it's hilt and sent it flying, the blade landing straight through the chest of one of the villagebeasts.

It was then that one side fell silent, turning their heads as they watched the robe-clad figure of a rabbit hit the ground, a sword piercing his chest and blood seeping from the wounds. A gasp echoed throughout the crowd, and it was not long before James - who had been standing by his side, rushed over to the fallen figure, letting loose a horrified scream. The young one was soon crying over the corpse of his fallen guardian, the other villagebeasts gazing back towards their foes with both fear and anger. The legionbeasts, meanwhile, began to cheer wildly, considering this to be a good sign. It was not until the legionbeast that had thrown the blade - a foolhardy rat- stepped forth to cheer himself, that they were silent.

His own cheer was cut off when a terrible hooked blade pierced through his chest, causing him to let loose a gargled shriek as he was impaled through the chest. His lanky form was pulled back as a female voice roared, tossing his body back. The rat stumbled, landing on his side, curling up and dieing as the blade remained within him. The assailant made no attempt to pick it up as her guards stood aside, making her presence clear. The only one that stood beside her was the robed pine marten, who stared up at her, more surprised then anything. There stood a fearsome female polecat, clad in red-dyed plate, no evidence of a helm anywhere on her person. Her entire body was clad with the armor, clearly offering her some significant protection. Her eyes were set directly upon the dormouse that represented the village, rather then the others.

She spoke up, her tone far from calm, anger clearly shining through it, though she was doing her best to compose herself "By striking down my herald you have just doomed yourself, you pathetic little wretch." she says, raising her snout, refusing to gaze down at the dormouse. "My wrath upon you, sniveling little worm." she says, the robed pine marten stepping out by her side, gesturing to the entire village "When dawn comes, your homes shall fall, the very earth below you will swallow you up. A fate worse then death awaits you all." he says, pointing a paw finger directly at the dormouse "And you will be amongst the first." he says, his expression unchanging. The pine marten had said this with absolute confidence and a certain mystical element to his words. It made quite a few people shiver, and this reaction made the polecat's sneer turn into a grin, her snout lowering as she gazes at them all "Ah. I see you have come to terms with what is about to happen. You have until sunrise tomorrow. If you refuse to come to us, then you will see why I am feared." she says, turning her back to them and barking out the order to fall back, the legion of beasts turning about , and after letting loose a single praising cheer to their leader, begin to make their way elsewhere.

An eerie silence dominated the village upon the legion's retreat. A few of them moved to tend to the body of the fallen one, James amongst them. Heather stood there beside her father, eyes wide in both terror and grief. Her face hidden in her father's chest as she too sought comfort. Harold and Dreng stood at their posts, both of them looking at one another very nervously, and then to the rest of the villagers. The sun had set. Darkness had fallen. And nobeast was prepared for what was to come.


	3. Chapter 2

The valley had become silent that night. Darkness filled the streets, not a single candlelight escaping the windows of a single cottage nor that of a single lantern, other then those of the funeral march. The village priest was an important figure within their community. He had been kind and helpful to many of them, and since death was uncommon amongst the valley folk, thus this was dealt with reverence. A long ceremony had been held for the kindly beast, a ceremony that James refused to attend at first. The young mouse had gone into deep grieving. He sat alone within dark shadow of the chapel, his eyes covered by his paws, his form trembling as he sobbed uncontrollably, feeling the strength of his loss. The sound of paws upon rock could be heard as a figure approached him within the dark. Still jumpy from the appearance of the massive horde of beasts, James could not help but become startled, edging away from the shadowy figure before letting loose a little cry of fear.

The figure spoke, a familiar voice catching his ear. Heather would speak up, reaching for him with a single paw. "J-James? How are you coping?" she pondered, her voice choked up and her tone rather hush. James would take a moment to clear his tears away, wiping his eyes on his robe before he would speak up "L-Leave me alone." He demanded, settling back down and turning to the exact opposite direction, trying to discontinue any further conversation. Heather would approach regardless, moving to try comforting the young mouse with a tight embrace, sighing sadly. James would feel a bit of guilt well up, and needing some form of comfort, turned to return it, sobbing into her dress, staining it with his tears. She would cradle him close, whispering soothing words as she tried her best to comfort him, her ears picking up a few scattered words from the ceremony occurring behind the chapel, filling her with further unease. James sniffled for a moment, wiping his runny nose on his already rather wet sleeve before speaking once more, voice still choked "A-Am I...w-wrong for not wanting to g-go?" he uttered, his eyes fixed upon the gate leading to the chapel's graveyard, the dim light emanating from nearby - where the funeral was taking place. Conflicting feelings began to well up within Heather, making her unsure of what to say. Her heart felt heavy as she began to weigh her options, still wanting to convince the little one to accompany her back, leaving him to pay his respects for the last time.

After a brief moment, she would gaze down at him, attempting to kneel down and look into his eyes, trying to speak encouragingly "Now look here. He was taken from us many, many seasons too early...many of us feel the impact, James. We do. Especially those like us who lost people close to them." she utters, her words causing a bit of grief to sting her, her frown rather clear as she would continue to speak to him "When my mother passed away father told me that a funeral should always be honored as a final moment to be grateful for the things your loved one has done for you in life." she points out, her words causing James to stir a bit. "You should not be afraid...do not make the mistake I did." she says, grimacing at her own words, feeling more guilty as she went on. James would seem to gaze right past her, staring at the gates for a moment before giving her a brief nod, slowly attempting to wiggle free and take a step back. The two stared at one another for a quite a while, before Heather would offer him her paw. James took it reluctantly, and without a word , the two of them made their way towards the gates, and towards the crowd.

The funeral had lasted for what felt like ages, the village beasts relishing it as time to give a final farewell to Father Farnsworth, thanking him for all he had done for them. James had decided to stay behind once the ceremony had ended, wanting to spend some time alone with the beast who raised him. Meanwhile, several beasts had gathered outside of the village chief's home shortly after the funeral. A rather dapper dormouse maiden let them in, leading them to the dining room, where the dormouse that spoke for the village earlier sat. He was at the far end of a rather long dining table, seeming very uneasy. His eyes showed his fair share of fear, a feeling that was clearly mingled amongst the visitors. The chief had asked that the leading member of each family come visit him immediately after the funeral had ended, and now his fears were beginning to come to fruition. There were significantly less attendees then he had expected, each of them taking a seat at the table and the rest standing aloof, the crowd filling the room rather well. A few moments would pass , allowing them all to settle down before the dormouse began speaking, addressing each of them. "Glad to see so many of you could make it. You all know just how important working together is at a time like this." he says, sounding genuinely grateful, though a tiny bit unsure. "We are here to discuss what can and must be done about this, before it gets out of paw. Everybeast here can help contribute to this. Though first, I think we must...take the time to assess exactly what is going on." he says, giving each of them a stern stare.

His words giving wake to stares and whispers amongst the beasts, before one - an elder badger who was dressed in a rather brightly colored tunic, dyed purple and slightly concealed under a thick leather jerkin -spoke up "Terrance. Bellgrin and his family took off." he uttered, his voice tinged with concern. This had prompted another beast to speak up, dressed in the attire of a bowsbeast "Aye, so did Dibson's." he pointed out, causing yet another beast to chime in. Terrance simply sat there as he was bombarded with a dozen or so different names, the reality soon beginning to clear. Many families, big or small had begun to leave, having become fearful of their foe's wrath. Terrance would raise his paw, the other beasts slowly quieting down in respect. "Did any of you happen to see where they went?" asked Terrance, his question receiving quite a few answers. Many of the families had apparently considered surrendering to the army of beasts outside , while others had chosen to try fleeing from the valley. Terrance's expression grew dire as he shook his head, feeling shaken up. He recognized many of the names, all of them beasts he had grown up with, seen every day and promised to care for. "It really as bleak as we think'n, Terrance me ol' chief? Maybe they weres right n'all to run. Doesn't look too long 'fore that vermin comes down n' slits our throats." An otter says, having been silent for most of the meeting. Terrance's gaze - along with the gaze of nearly every other beast would shift onto the otter. The rest of them would turn back to their chief, thee otter's words having gotten to them "Drell, you of all beasts should know running away from our problems will not solve them. We must take a stand, defend our home." he says, giving him a sharp nod. Drell would seem to grow far more uneasy, and clearly angrier at this. "But what of me wife and son, eh? What of 'em? What about all of ours? Better send them along then have 'em be cut n' eaten up by vermin." he says.

Terrance would perk a brow at this, staring right at the Otter "Drell! Calm yourself. Your son is quite a capable guard, I am sure he can help take care of you and Sena better then anyone. And you fought alongside me during our journeys all those years ago - if there is anyone who can help it would be you." he said, nodding to the otter. The other beasts would speak their approval, all eyes landing upon Drell again, who still seemed uneasy. He would reach for the door, pulling it open and staring at them all. "I can't do it, chief. I really can't. Me little Dreng is not go'n to be target practice for 'em and me own life won't be theirs for the 'aving." he says, his words causing a bit of an upheaval with the others. Terrance grunts, slowly seeming rather sad to see his friend reduced to such a state. "Drell, we cannot force you to stay here. Be careful out there." he says, nodding to the otter. Surprised by Terrance's acceptance, Drell would seem stunned for a moment, gazing back at him and giving a brief nod before staring at the other beasts and saying - "Thank ye' all.", and making his way out of the home.

A silence would descend over the group for a moment before Terrance spoke. "If any of you likewise feel any sort of doubt...then I fully understand. We each have families to care for, and their safety comes first." he says, addressing each of them. His words caused each of them to exchange glances, uncertainty dwelling amongst them. It was a mole that broke the silence, the farmer's voice filled with quite a bit of fervor "If'n we run, we wun' get far 'fow we're coot do'n. Aye, oi'm with you, zurr." he says, beaming pleasantly upon finishing his words. The other beasts seemed stirred by this, each of them agreeing with the mole and speaking of their intention to stay. Terrance seemed to be far calmer now, smiling at his fellow villagebeasts before clapping his paws together "Right! That settles it. Fine beasts, all of you." he says, nodding to them all. Further celebrations were cut off by a knocking at the door, everyone's attention turning to it. A paw would move to open the door, allowing a rather well armored hare to enter the room. The grey hare looked relatively deep into his seasons, yet still quite chipper. His attire was that of a local guard, yet his tabard differed from the rest. The trim had been dyed a bright red - a little cluster of medals pinned to the chest. The hare seemed reluctant to get in from the cold, rubbing his paws together before speaking. "Evenin', lads. Mighty chilly outside, eh?" he says, a slight smile across his lips. The beasts greeted him as Captain Jerome, his arrival seeming to make Terrance seem even more relieved "Captain, so good of you to join us. Anything to report?" he pondered, leaning forth with anticipation. Jerome would move to settle against a wall, needing to rest a moment while he speaks. "Not too good I'm afraid, chief. Bally beasts 'ave us cornered for the most part - brainy blighters they are. Something might be wrong, don't know how t' put this but they've got our backs against the wall the way they're camping." he says, giving a rather uneasy shake of his head "Definitely not as barmy as we thought. Bally smart too - know 'ow many of us there are. Withdrew two - maybe three 'undred beasts since I last checked, may be up to five 'undred now." he says, seemingly struggling to remember the exact amounts "Jolly uneasy too, heard a bit o' arguin' coming from their forward position." he says, gesturing towards the north. "Makes me fur stand on end to think about what these blokes are arguin' on about." he adds, scoffing. The beasts grew a tiny bit more concerned, definitely not feeling any better knowing what they were up against. Terrance seemed to be just as uneasy, quickly trying to find a bright side to this "Well, we can hope that with them withdrawing extra beasts from the valley - they might underestimate us and give us a chance to resist." he says, nodding to himself reassuringly. A voice chimed in, that of Heather's father. "I think one concern would be where this 'Valatha' even got any of these beasts. She sounds like a rambling lunatic." he says, frowning at his own words "Most of them don't even seem to want to be in her 'little' army." he adds, receiving his reply from Jerome "Probably the same way the old girl's tryin' to 'convince' us, Alden me bucko." he says, chuckling to the mouse "The rest of them's what concerns me, lads." he admits, his gaze moving from beast to beast to watch their reaction. They seemed uneasy enough , grumbling to one another before Terrance spoke up "What are you getting at, Jerome?" he pondered, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling a tiny bit defensive, mostly because he also felt rather uncertain about this.

Jerome seemed to gaze about nervously, the hare trying to lighten the mood with a half-hearted chuckle "Well, Terrance me ol' lad I must say...they are quite mixed. Seabeasts, genuine brigands...fox clans, rogue woodlanders." he says, scratching the back of his head as he gave it a shake "Blimey...more that I think of it, the stranger it all sounds." he admits, grunting. Terrance would seem rather surprised, gazing at his fellow villagebeasts "Well we certainly know she isn't working alone." he says, the revelation causing his brow to furrow. "Worrisome. Still, you did well to inform us, Captain. Good on you, without you we would be blind in this darkness." he says, dipping his head respectfully to Captain Jerome. The captain in turn, would beam as those around him also offered their congratulations, giving a short bow "Tch! T'is nothing, me bucko. Lets just give this Valatha girl a good walloping before tea-time." he says, his encouraging words eliciting a cheer from the others.

As the villagebeasts continued their discussions, beyond the valley's boundaries, over the hills, the stationed beasts of Valatha's legion lay sleeping, the only activity by the enforcers ensuring that no one is out of their tent, and a faint light emanating from the largest tent amongst them, set up right in the middle. Within this tent, Valatha sat comfortable within her throne, her tail draped over her lap as she would adjust herself within the wooden seat, a single claw digging into her cushioned arm rest. She drags the claw back and forth, agitation in her movement, her eyes upon her visitors – two red foxes, a reynard and a vixen, both clad in black dyed leather gear, a golden sash draped across the reynard's torso and a silver one across the vixen's. The vixen was watching the two converse from the entrance to the tent, resting against the canvas rather casually, her tail tucked between her legs rather uneasily. Valatha shifted as she continued to address the fox, having been in the midst of a conversation. "Nagrin, you should know better then to keep me waiting this long. Our plans cannot be delayed forever and our success depends on timing and execution." She says, making a subtle emphasis on the word 'execution'. Nagrin, the Reynard, was giving a very toothy grin, his arms crossed over his chest and his head slightly bowed. "My apologies, O' high and mighty Empress, next time I assure you we will be here far faster. We had an interruption." He said, his tone relatively apologetic. His voice was deep and rather clear, his speech eloquent and suave, brimming with a deceivingly attractive quality. Valatha was not convinced, staring down at the fox for a few seconds before reaching to her side, gasping a rather thick birch rod before proceeding to gesture toward him, speaking both frankly and uncharacteristically sweet "Nagrin. I assume you DO remember when you came to me five seasons ago. You offered us your support and your follower's expertise as well as your own and all in exchange for a sizable chunk of Mossflower once this is is all over." She says, slowly stroking her paw down the rod, her words eliciting a quick and rather enthusiastic nod from the fox, "Of course! And I assume you are pleased with our work?". Valatha would smile at this, slowly reaching out with the rod and stroking it in between his ears, her words a tiny bit sweeter. "Well your efforts have been satisfactory…" she admits, patting him slowly. The vixen at the entrance would seem phased by this, a frown upon her features. Valatha would continue to pat Nagrin as he smiled smugly, slowly raising the rod before she brought it down on his head, causing him to wince in pain, yelping as he fell back, Valatha promptly beating at him "Satisfactory IS NOT acceptable!" she roared, watching the fox crawl off towards a corner in the tent, slowly getting up as she would put the rod away, watching as the fox crouched there, stroking his skull in pain.

Valatha would return to her chair, adjusting her dress for a moment before leaning forward, pointing at the fox accusingly. "Next –time I will expect superb results, anything less and I will skin you and use your hide as a handkerchief!" She says, growling a tad as she spoke "I put you in charge of this, you and your clan are the greatest band of thieves, assassins and vagabonds I could find! Do NOT make me replace you with a bunch of sea-sick stoats and mangy rats." She uttered, scratching the cushioning of her arm rests roughly, almost splitting it completely. Nagrin would take the verbal abuse as best he could ,slowly bowing his head as he would settle back in front of her, frowning rather clearly "AS you wish, Empress." He uttered, slouching as he would move to knee. He figured it would probably calm her down and let him recover from his headache. "Tomorrow this village will be utterly devastated, a clear message will be sent, in particular to the inhabitants of the castle to the north." She says, staring between the two foxes before continuing "Upon it's destruction you are to strip it of any necessary supplies. Wood from the houses , weapons and anything you see fit." She says, waving her paw dismissively "Then you will lead a regiment of my best beasts northwards and begin your conquest." She says, slowly getting up as she strolled up to him, arms crossed behind her "Your clan's members will integrate themselves into the group and no problems will be caused. If I have any reports of dissension within my own ranks I will not be pleased." she says, before stopping to gesture towards the vixen, giving her a stern glare "Seeing as you are also serving under him. Keep in mind this counts for you too." she says, her words eliciting a nervous nod from the vixen.

Valatha would make her way back to her throne, settling down upon it and staring at the two of them, slouching a bit "The moment that village falls you are to leave, immediately. Tomorrow the earth will tremble, as I wish, and will ravage it. The survivors will be easy to find." she says, slowly straightening her posture before leaning against her paw, resting her chin upon it "They will be far too weak and shaken up to fight. Kill them. Kill them all. No matter how tiny the youngling or frail the elder, I want them slaughtered as violently as you can." she says, a murderous glint within her eyes as they met with Nagrin's own "Mutilate, slaughter and eviscerate! Load their remains into carts and simply pass them to one of my lieutenants. We will be using them to send a clear message to the rest of Southwards." she says, freely showing off her unrelenting wrath. Nagrin would seem to wince at this for a moment, even he felt this was exaggeratingly brutal. But, he quickly flashed her a rather pleased grin, slowly standing at attention and giving her a courteous bow "Of course! An ingenious plan, o' mighty empress! They will be frightened into submission the moment they gaze upon the fruits of your ruthlessness." he says, praise clear within his voice. Valatha could not help but give a rather proud smirk, chuckling to herself "Yes, I am quite ingenious." she admits, gazing about for a moment ,quickly attempting to change the subject "Well, enough of that. Be gone! I have many things to do before this night's end." she says, nodding to herself as she leans up, placing two paws together "And do not forget. We are watching you." she says, giving a rather malevolent chuckle to the foxes. Nagrin and the vixen would gaze at one another, rather perplexed. "Of course. We must go gather our energy." he says, stopping in his tracks when Valatha raised a single paw. She leans forth, gazing at the vixen as she waits outside before speaking to Nagrin "Next time tell your 'student' to leave her kit behind next time she follows you around. He causes far too much trouble here." she says, giving a dismissive wave of her paw, signaling her want to end the conversation.

Nagrin would flash a baleful stare at the vixen, who would slink into the shadows rather quickly. He turned to Valatha, slowly backing out and presenting her with multiple bows "Indeed. A thousand thank-yous for this audience." he says, quickly backing out before turning, briskly walking across the tents. The vixen would scoot after him, catching up to him. He spoke as they advanced through the vast rows of tents, speaking to her all the while "Zerda, my sweet. Why won't you ever learn that the empress does not like your son?" he says, perking a brow to the vixen. Zerda would let loose an uneasy sigh, staring right back at Nagrin "I cannot help it, Nagrin. He is hardly an adult. Besides, you know he takes up after his father."she says, offering a sly wink. Nagrin would shake his head, going quiet for a moment as they approached her tent "Yes. He does." he uttered, stopping in front of it and turning to her. He would slowly reach out to stroke a paw across her leather clad arm, "For now we must remain vigilant, the clan in order and these pesky morons under a watchful eye." he says, staring at her for a moment. "The last thing I would like is for you to get...hurt." he says, slight affection within his voice. Zerda would waste no time to slowly edge closer to Nagrin, allowing him to embrace her. "Must we really follow this madbeast's orders? She and the other leaders of this alliance lack your intelligence." she says, resting her head against the other's chest. Nagrin would let out a grunt, giving a little comforting stroke upon Zerda's back "Once this is over we should have plenty of land at our disposal, and plenty of beasts working for us..." he says, a slight grin forming as she would look up at him, returning it. "And then, we turn on them all, and then it will be US beating HER." she says, finishing his sentence for him. Nagrin would chuckle at this, embracing her tightly "Cunning, vicious and untrustworthy...Hellteeth - I should have fallen in love with you sooner." he says, leaning in to touch noses with her for a brief moment.

Their little moment was quickly ended when the grating sound of another's false throat-clearing caught their attention, the two gazing at the tent to see a younger fox, clad in a blue tunic with a single red armband upon his left arm and a rough leather belt strapped to their waist holding the sheath for a dagger. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the two of them. "Mother..." he says, nodding to Zerda, before doing the same to Nagrin "Chief." he says, gazing at the two of them rather inquisitively, tilting his head to the side and perking his ears up as he wore a very smug expression. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I simply assumed mother was going to spend the night in her own tent on this trip." he says, spreading his arms and giving them both a light shrug. Nagrin would let loose an annoyed grunt, looking across at the other fox as he would slowly let go of Zerda "Respect your mother's wishes, boy. She has done more for the clan then you will ever do in your life-time." he says, a frown clearly upon his lips as he stares the other down "And you should learn to respect your chief's wishes, 'less you want me to box your ears and slit them for good measure." he says,reaching for his own dagger and pointing it towards the young fox. Zerda would react with a little snicker as she would grasp Nagrin's arm, slowly lowering it as she would look up at him "Corsac is right, love. No need to do anything too hasty. Go and rest, we will meet tomorrow morning and co-ordinate another victory." she says, leaning up and planting a brief kiss upon Nagrin's nose. He would smirk smugly at this, returning the favor, much to Corsac's clear disgust. He was scrunching his snout, not standing to watch this, slowly taking a few steps back into the light-less tent, making his way over to his bedroll.

After a few moments, Zerda would join him, looking awfully cross. She approached the young fox, immediately raising her paw and smacking him across the snout, eliciting a yelp from Corsac as he would stop to rub the sore area. "Why must you never respect my privacy, son? Do you forget that - hate him as you may - he is still OUR leader." she utters, trying her best not to shout in fear that she might be heard. Corsac would take a moment to calm himself before he spoke, staring up at her sternly "I don't like the way he looks at you sometimes. It almost seems like he's waiting for the right moment..."he says, cut off by his mother's stern stare. She would shake her head slowly, moving to settle by her son for a moment, placing a paw on his shoulder "You worry far too much. He would never do that to me, and I am sure he would never truly do anything to you." she says, giving a slight nod "He cares for the well-being of this clan. And he thinks of you as his own son." she says, smiling sweetly to him. Corsac would seem to make a gagging motion, shaking his head "I would rather see you with a stripehound then that baleful scum." he utters, the mother reacting with a huff, getting up and placing her paws on her hips "I do what I must to keep us alive and well. Maybe one day you will respect me for that." she says, making her way into the darkness of the tent. It was not too large, having simply their two bedrolls, a single screen and a wooden weapon's rack with sacks leaning against it, containing their personal belongings. She made her way behind the screen, proceeding to remove her armor and change into a ragged gown, making her way over to her own roll. Corsac would sigh, slowly slipping into his bedroll and laying back "Yes, mother. Keep your wits about you." he says, sounding rather uneasy. Zerda would stare back at him for a moment, sighing loudly before she flopped onto her back, shutting her eyes and uttering to herself "That boy will be the end of me..."

Silence enshrouded the valley that night. Not a sound rising from either the encampment nor the village. The remaining inhabitants had decided to turn in, needing to get some rest before the hard day ahead. Though a single beast still stirred that night. Harold sat bolt upright within his bed, staring in the direction of the window across from it, the events from earlier and the tension in the air kept him awake that night. The badger's mind was running rampant with thoughts, of countless possibilities good and bad. He worried for the safety of the villagers, and himself. His chain of thoughts was broken eventually, his nerves beginning to get the better of him. In an attempt to distract himself from his troubles, he slowly climbed out of bed, making his way over to the window, the cold floor felt against his footpaws. He stood at the window, almost pressing his snout up against it as he looked outside, gazing at the dark streets outside. A faint light tinged the horizon, signaling the morning's approach, distant as it still was. Suddenly, something caught the badger's eye. Harold attempted to focus his gaze upon a shadow sneaking through the streets, clutching a bow close to it's form and a large sack slung over it's back.

Harold could make out the faint silhouette of a rodent carrying these items, which raised many more questions. An uneasy growl would leave him as he turned around, making his way up to his bed and slowly bending down in front of it. He fished about under the bed for a moment, eventually sliding out the flail he had been given earlier by the handle, his eyes glistening with pride as he held the weapon, slightly gleeful at the prospect of making use of it for the first time. Though, his glee was overshadowed by his fear. He had doubts about how many others there may be if this really was one of the beasts that made up the legion, which made him a little bit hesitant. He hastened his actions, trying to fight his fear in favor of doing the right thing, his suspicions pinned on it being a looter from amongst them coming to steal from the abandoned homes. Upon collecting his flail, he would slowly attempt to sneak out of the home, the door to his room creaking open slowly, leaving a crack for him to look through. Everyone had gone to sleep by now, and he felt assured that his relatives were - as he was - relatively heavy sleepers. After a few moments, he would do his best to slip through the crack, getting caught quite a few times as he tried to, eventually managing to pull the door open just enough in order to slip through, the chains of the flail rattling a tad with the motion, forcing him to grasp at them and hold them together. He slowly backed up, pushing his rump against the door and closing it behind him, not wanting to draw suspicion, before scooting over to the door of the house, repeating the previous process rather hastily.

Once the front door was closed, he gazed about, trying to catch sight of the silhouette once more, managing to spy it heading out of the village and towards a nearby hill. What caught his attention was the fact that he knew which direction the legion's encampment was - and it was not in that direction. His curiosity piqued as he would try to follow suite, having noticed an increase in their pace. He practically rushed after them, slipping through a hidden crevice in the city walls, a broken stock that had been hollowed out. The figure had stopped for a moment, seemingly to catch it's breath, giving him ample time to approach them, his knees bent as he would crouch up behind them, trying not to make a sound. The rodent's ears seemed to perk up upon hearing something behind it, turning it's head to face him. Letting loose a cry of surprise as he noticed he was spotted, Harold attempted to leap onto the figure, catching them off guard, the figure letting loose a feminine scream. Harold shut his eyes and raised his flail above his head, about to bring it down on their skull before being stopped by a familiar paw upon his arm, a whisper escaping the figure "H-Harold... I-It's me, Heather. Y-Your friend! D-Don't.." she whispered, visibly trembling as she looked up at her friend as he held up the weapon she had made for him, seemingly ready to crush her skull to a pulp. Harold's lids would flicker open, gazing down at Heather for a few moments before breathing a sigh of relief, slowly lowering the weapon to his side as he looked down at her, "Heather? Tooth and claw, woman! What are you doing out here?" he uttered, sounding very anxious. His lapse in judgment almost left a very messy result.

Heather would speak up, her voice squeakier then usual - mostly out of fear "Father left a few moments ago, he said he was heading off to look for help." she says, gazing down at her own form, a longbow having fallen right next to her, amidst the grass. Harold would gaze down at the weapon, perking a brow as he slowly climbed off her, offering a paw to help her up. Heather gladly took the paw, pulling up the sack and grasping her bow as she rose. Upon further inspection, Harold noticed that she had been wearing attire he had never seen her in. She was wearing white-dyed leather armor, it was clearly studded, the chaps seeming rather old and worn. He could not determine what wood her bow was made of, but it definitely was not of very high quality. After a moment spent catching her breath, Heather would hold it up and begin explaining "Harold...Do you remember when we used to be visited by those roving performers every two seasons? I had taken a shot at archery. I think Dreng remembers it best." she says, giving a little smile, trying to hold back a giggle "The first arrow I ever shot and I ended up pinning him to the ground with it." she said. Harold could not help but snicker at the thought of that fond memory. "Well..." Heather continued "After that day, I had begun to take an interest in archery. I visited Helgar the Bowyer a few days later and asked him more on the subject. He went on and on about how much patience and precision it took. About the dangers one faces and the benefits they receive for being a good archer." she says, giving a little nod to her own words. "Well...father did not take it too well. He did not explain why but - upon mentioning this to him he almost went berserk! He forbid me from touching a bow again." she says, a tinge of guilt spiking her heart, a frown slowly creasing her lips "Mmh...I did not want to give up. So I stitched this together." she says, gesturing to her attire "Helgar showed me how. And I strung this bow." she says, flicking a paw finger over it's flaxen string. "I come out every few nights to practice it, I found the best place to set up is right here." she says ,spreading her arms and gesturing about, turning around and staring up the hill "Now I need it more then ever." She admits, slowly advancing forth up the hill. Harold could not help but feel a tiny bit sorry for her, advancing up the hill alongside her "Well. I don't think anything stops me from...watching?" he says, giving a hopeful smile. Heather would gaze back at him as she walked smiling back "Yes. That would be lovely." she admitted, feeling far more enthusiastic now.

Heather began to rush up the hill, Harold following suite, chuckling as he took it as a game. Heather would share his laughter, feeling the nostalgia of when they used to be little and play upon the hills. As they reached the top, she stopped abruptly and eagerly tossed the sack down onto the ground. "I brought some breakfast along with me, no good eating all alone without a view." she says, patting the sack before pulling the string holding it closed, reaching into it and slowly removing a small bundle of arrows and a wooden board with a bullseye very crudely drawn on it. The hill had ended in a bit of plateau. While the ground was not perfectly flat it was flat enough for her to set up the bull's-eye at the other end, hoisting it up with a single wooden board. Harold would simply stand aside, watching with curiosity as she set everything up and gathered her things, occasionally turning his head to where the sun was beginning to rise. It was visibly getting brighter now, and he could see rather clearly. Heather, though, took no notice, and took one of the arrows from the bundle, panting from her rush and the excitement thereafter. Harold slowly plopped himself down next to her, gazing at the target, noting it's distance. It would take a very good shot to hit it from where they were. Heather would take a moment to catch her breath and relax herself, slowly taking stance and inhaling sharply. She would focus her vision upon the target in the distance, biting her lower lip with her larger front teeth as she slowly drew the bow, her fingers gripping the back end of the shaft tightly. She would let it fly a moment later, the metal-tipped arrow shooting through the air and hitting the target with quite a bit of force, sending it sliding downhill. Heather would give a rather surprised expression, Harold likewise. After a moment, he began to applaud her, Heather turning to give him a little bow, tinged with embarrassment. She quickly made her way downhill, Harold helping her roll the bull's-eye back up before examining where the arrow had hit. It was far from dead center, but it hit one of the inner rings. Heather would let loose a sigh of relief, Harold gazing up at her. The badger would give her a pat on the shoulder, tugging the arrow free from the bull's-eye "Not bad! A bit more work and you could show the bowsbeasts in the guard a thing or two." he says, chuckling to himself. Heather would snicker at his words, playfully tapping his nose "Oh, you would know. I've seen you try to fire one of these." she jested, giggling as Harold poked back at her. Regardless of her armor, he was hiding a few ticklish spots, causing her to try cowering away from him.

Their playful tickling would quickly come to an end as a voice called out to them, the two of them sitting up and gazing downhill to see a distraught James rushing up after them, out of breath and seemingly frightened. "Heather! Harold! T-They're gathering!" he cried, quickly rushing to the two of them. Harold blinked for a moment, catching the little mouse as he flung himself at them, trying to calm him down "What are you talking about, lad?" he pondered, being answered by James' frantic pointing. The two of them turned their head to the direction he was pointing at, a gasp leaving Heather's lips as they all beheld quite a chilling sight. The entire legion of beasts had gathered upon the southern range and stood overlooking the village. They could tell more were gathering behind the hill, out of sight, having caught a few of them peaking up from time to time. Harold was the first to react, slowly gesturing for the others to settle down, not wanting to draw attention. "Shh...they're up to something." he uttered, slowly moving to grip the handle of his flail, grimacing as he observed a few of them parting ways in order to let a someone through their ranks. The lot of them could not tell whom it was, but it looked like a fox.

Heather's gaze would eventually wander over to the rising sun in the distance, a chill running down her spine as she remembered the words the polecat had spoken. " When dawn comes, your homes shall fall, the very earth below you will swallow you up."she recited to herself, her words drawing the attention of the other two, the reality sinking in. Time was up. Harold took no time, quickly getting up and moved to scramble downhill "Gah! I have to warn-" he cried ,his words cut off by Heather, who had gripped his scruff right on time and stopped him. "N-No. Look." she said, gesturing to the group of beasts upon the hill, the glisten of a spyglass shining upon them. They were being watched. Harold would growl, attempting to bat her paw away as he began to rise "No! If I don't warn them-" he began, only to be cut off by something far worse then a paw grasping at him. He lost balance, falling flat on his rear as the hill trembled, the sound of distant rumbling was heard. James and Heather gazed around themselves in shock. "W-What was that?" James uttered with a profound amount of fear in his voice, slowly moving to sit in between the two of them, too afraid to move. Heather opened her mouth to answer, but her words were drowned out by an even louder rumbling. The earth beneath them began to tremble, a rough and powerful shaking that knocked even the beasts looking down upon the village to fall down. All except the fox. His voice echoed across the valley, barely audible over the thundering rumble. "You challenged Valatha's power! And now you will suffer her wrath! Hellgates take you all!" he cackled. The three beasts huddled up with one another, their scared cries echoing across the valley, along with the startled screams and yells erupting from the village below. Their worst fears had just come true.


	4. Chapter 3

**[[NOTE: I am trying out a different writing style for this chapter. If you as a reader find it comfortable, feel free to tell me. I will remake the older chapters in this style.]]**

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><p>A stirring rumble and a slight shaking of the earth finally caused young Harold to stir from his unconscious state. As he slowly sat up, his eyelids aching and his head in searing pain, his sight adjusted to the light of the evening sun shining somewhere in the distance. The last thing he could remember was the horrible sensation of what felt like the earth trembling, and being ripped apart around him. He and the others had rolled down the hill, and he had hit his head on the way down. He could feel cold, wet soil underneath him, and slowly began to come to terms with his surroundings. He was in what looked like a shallow fissure in the ground, the surface that he was on was very uneven and he could feel mud caking the green tunic he had worn to bed, now fully regretting not having changed into something else before leaving his home.<p>

"Y-You're awake!" cried a voice in the dark corner of the pit.

Harold's head quickly turned to the direction of the voice, recognising it to be Heather's. He turned right on time to see James rushing towards him, a big smile upon his face and his robes looking just as muddy as Harold's own. The mouse embraced his badger friend, clearly relieved to see him unharmed.

"We thought you were never going to wake up!" he said, his voice brimming with delight. He slowly gazed up at him, frowning for a moment "I almost thought... that you were dead."

Harold would give James a grin, patting his shoulder and trying to comfort the little one.

"It takes more then a hole in the ground to take me down, they would need to make it a thousand fathoms deep." he boasted, managing to coax a smile back into the mouse.

Heather sat in the corner of the pit, sprawled against the wall and watching the two of them with a look of relief. She was the least lucky of the trio, having had quite a nasty tumble and landed upon her arm, injuring it. The armour around her left arm seemed quite badly damaged, a jagged cleft ripped into it from landing upon sharp rocks. Her arm seemed covered in scratches and a rather nasty visible gash, though the bleeding seemed to be minor. It was not long before Harold spotted her, slowly getting up and rushing over to her, squatting down beside her.

"I am _certainly_ glad that you're still with us, Harold." she said, her voice sounding quite dry and weak.

He leaned over her, having noticed her injured arm and inspecting it carefully.

"You certainly won't be if we don't get this covered up, lassy." he quipped, managing to get a little giggle out of her. He proceeded to use his claws to help him rip a sizable strip of cloth from the front of his tunic, lean over and begin tying it comfortably around her arm, trying not to make it too tight.

James made his way up to them, gazing down at Heather with a concerned expression, averting his gaze to Harold as he tied to cloth to her arm, watching carefully and taking careful note of this. Harold soon finished tying the knot and allowed Heather to lift her arm and clench her paw for a moment, nodding at it as confirmation. James let loose a relieved huff, patting the other mouse's head comfortingly before slowly rising up and gazing upwards.

"Um...I can't hear anything." said James, rather puzzled at the odd silence that hung in the air. The screaming from before had stopped, and not a single rumbling sound could be heard.

The only sound in the air was the billowing of the wind, the rustling of the grass and the insects buzzing around within it. The silence was disheartening, being an extreme contrast to the chaos they had heard earlier. It was remembering this that brought a loud gasp from James' maw.

"The village!"

His cry brought the other two's attention to the little mouse, who then looked at one another and quickly scrambled up, clearly in a panic. Harold quickly began to look around for a way out staring straight up at the mouth of the fissure. Heather began to scour the ground for something they could use to help them escape. James stared at the walls of the fissure, making his way up to one of them before hopping up and grasping onto it with both paws, his claws dug deep into the hard earth. He grunted, pulling himself up and starting to scale the wall. Harold watched the mouse climb, turning his head towards Heather, who had found her bow amidst the mud and looked at it in disdain before slipping it around her and gazing up at James, letting loose a gasp.

"James! Careful! Y-You're awfully high up." she cried out before slowly leaning towards Harold and uttering "Why didn't we think of doing that?"

"The little scamp is a smart one. Besides, you know I'd be damned before I try climbing again after the tumble I've just had!"

Mentioning this alone made Harold rub the back of his sore head for a moment, watching as the determined little mouse managed to climb all the way to the top of the fissure , disappear for a moment and then poke his head back into full view.

"Shake a leg down there! What? Do you need big brother James to get you a rope?" he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Harold and Heather both gazed right up at him for a moment ; Heather giving a playful sneer and Harold shaking his fist up at the boy in mock anger. After having a little laugh, Harold advanced towards the wall and looked back at Heather.

"It'd be wise to hang onto me, lass. Don't want to lose you half way up with that injury of yours." he said, pointing to his back before digging his claws in.

Heather gave him a half-hearted nod, seemingly unsure for a moment. She made her way up to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and crawling up slightly, almost clinging to his head. Harold stood there for a few moments, clinging to the dirty wall and unable to see with a faceful of Heather.

"Not only do you need to wash your scruffy neck, but I don't think I can quite scale this with you literally breathing down my throat."

Harold's words made the mouse squeak in surprise, slowly adjusting her position and squeezing around his torso, holding onto him tightly. Harold gazed back at her, giving her a nod.

"Think you can hold on?" he pondered in concern.

"I think so...I still have one good arm."

Harold nodded back to her, taking a deep breath before beginning his ascent, able to hang on quite well. The walls were surprisingly study, and he was able to find quite a few rocks to help him keep his grip. As he scaled the wall, Heather cling closely to him, her legs swaying limply like a ragdoll, occasionally twitching. She did the mistake of looking down as they neared the top, giving off a loud gasp and squeezing very tightly against Harold's chest. The badger let loose a wheeze, almost losing his balance from the sudden tightening.

"Loosen your grip and look up, or I'll suffocate before I get to the top!" Harold said, his eyes bulging out quite a bit. The mousemaid certainly had an iron grip.

"OH! Sorry." Heather, gave off a nervous chuckle as she would loosen her grip, keeping her hold as she looked up. "Up. Right."

She was doing her best to keep her eyes on the wide-eyed and quite concerned James rather then the ground beckoning for her to fall head first into it. Harold finally managed to climb to the top of the fissure, slowly pulling himself out of it, sprawling over the ground upon his front. Heather rolled onto her back next to him, panting heavily and trembling a bit from the climb, her arms aching from the strain. James stood over the two, looking down at them with a confounded expression.

"Wow. I never knew Harold was a natural climber." He clasped his paws together, gazing at Heather next "And you, a natural clinger-toer."

Heather looked up at him, slowly sitting up and grimacing as she suddenly reached out and grabbed his ear.

"Ow!" he groaned, only to be tugged on a little harder "What did I do?"

"Worried me sick with that climb." She pulled the younger mouse into an embrace "And you showed us the way out."

James was rather surprised by the display of affection and the praise, burning red under his fur, smiling to himself and looking up wistfully.

"Think nothing of it!"

Harold slowly stirred from where he lay, standing up slowly and craning his neck. He gazed down at the ground, spotting his flail - which had fallen along with him when he rolled down the hill - laying in the grass, and picked it up, slipping it into his tunic's belt. He then gazed back at the other two and moving to tap their shoulders.

"There is a time and place for congratulations, and now is not the time." he urged, gesturing towards the top of the hill. From where they stood, they could see a distressing sight wafting high into the air.

A billowing pillar of smoke rose high into the air, prompting the trio to quickly rise and scamper their way up the hill. As they stopped atop of it, their eyes were met with a devastating sight. Where the village once stood there was now a shattered memory of what it once was. The earth itself seemed to have waged war against it, many of the homes had been swallowed up by it. The ground was scarred with deep cuts, large enough to eat several beasts whole, like gaping and toothless maws. Many of the buildings that were not devoured by the earth had collapsed onto themselves due to the shaking. Several of the buildings that still stood were either on fire, or being looted by Valatha's soldiers. But the thing that chilled them to the bone was the sight of the bodies of the villagers - the beasts they had grown up with and knew like their own kin - being carted away in wheelbarrows and carts to an unknown fate.

The sight alone was enough to make James cry out in terror, tears to well up in Heather's eyes and Harold to stare slack-jawed as the village he was supposed to defend had been ravaged by it's foes - and seemingly the very elements. Heather promptly covered James' eyes, though he resisted fiercely, biting her paw and causing her to cry out in pain, before attempting to rush downhill. Harold managed to leap at and tackle the mouse, holding him down before he could blow their cover.

"Get down!"

"No! Let me go, those...dirt-eating, heartless, gutless _killers!_ **Look at what they've done**!"

James began to struggle violently, trashing in Harold's grip, though the badger managed to keep him down until he stopped struggling. The three stood there together, staring down at the obliterated remains of their home. Hearthbrook was no more.

After a few moments of grieving, the trio decided that they should not linger for long, lest they be discovered and share the villagers' fate. They journeyed through the nearby plains, the sky a dimming red as the evening came, the day slowly drawing to a close. James had become silent by now, still shaken from the horrors he had seen and the anger he felt towards the assailants. Heather had begun to contemplate what their next move would be ,seeing as they now had nowhere to go. Harold seemed repentant, guilty that he could not be around to help the villagers in their time of need, though he knew that he would not have lasted long. As the sky finally darkened, they came across a river heading northwards, a cobblestone road meandering alongside it.

They settled down by the side of the road, stopping to drink from the river and rest up as night fell. James stopped to wash his face in the water, trying to refresh himself, while Heather looked out into the distance, gazing southwards down the road. It was Harold - whom had been mulling things over and looking into the water that spoke up first.

"Maybe we should do something about this. These beasts clearly have a goal far larger then simply looting villages." Harold slowly stood up, stretching a bit as he did so.

Heather leaned against her bow, staring out into the distance and seemingly wracking her brain over what to do. "We could head to Castle Floret and warn the King about this Valatha person. Though I fear it may be for naught. If they already know that danger is about, they might lock us out and refuse to let us in."

James looks back at the two, his face still wet from washing it , slowly standing up and looking at his muddy robe, making a face as he would tug at it "Can we borrow some clean clothes when we get there? Oh! Maybe I can dress up like a prince!"

Heather looked James, gazing at his robe for a moment, biting her lower lip and looking at her leather armour. "Well we all could use something clean to slip into..."

Her gaze was quickly snapped back to the road as she caught the sound of what sounded like wooden wheels upon the cobblestone, and caught sight of someone pulling a cart along the road. "I think...I think I see someone coming."

Harold slowly made his way towards her, standing by her and observing the cart that was being pulled along by someone he could barely make out in the moonlight, simply looking like a black featureless blob.

"Well I have seen merchants travel down this road before. You can bet your whiskers our best bet is with one of them."

The mysterious figure drew closer and closer, and as it approached they each stood by one another and waited to be noticed. As the cart drew up to them, they caught a sight of the one pulling it along. A red furred squirrelmaiden clad in a brown dress and bonnet, her paws clad in leather gloves and a dust-laden apron draped over her dress. She seemed to stop to catch her breath, looking rather worn out. She stared right at the trio for a moment, her eyes wide with fear as she seemed to be reaching back for something.

Her cart was a sturdy thing, and for good reasons. It was laden with what looked like open crates filled with figurines, a few chairs, wooden spoons, stirring rods and other instruments. Upon noticing her reaching back, Harold advanced towards her, keeping his paws up to show that he meant no harm. Before he could even say a word, she had managed to reach for a wooden spoon before leaping at him , striking him across the face and causing him to lose his balance. She continued to rain blows upon him, causing him to throw his arms up in defence.

"RAAAH! Vermin scum! You will never take my goods OR my life!" The Squirrelmaiden cried out.

Harold did his best to deflect the blows, while James and Heather watched on, far too surprised at first, but quickly rushing to their friend's aid. Heather did her best to try grabbing the squirrel, though she was far too determined, and James managed to pull Harold away from her.

"We are **not** vermin!" cried Heather, doing her best to hold the other beast back, finally feeling her stop her struggle, gazing back at her rather curiously.

The Squirrelmaiden was released, stumbling a bit before catching her footing and gazing at Harold, who was looking up at her with a look of fear. "I was only trying to catch your attention, lass! I submit!"

A sigh of relief left the Squirrel as she had noticed that they were friendly, bending down and offering her paw to Harold, who reluctantly accepted. She helped pull him up, dusting him off politely before taking a step back, lowering her wooden spoon.

"Do excuse me, friends. I thought you were one of those bastardly, cruel fiends that have been ambushing beasts earlier down the road." she said, pointing over her shoulder. "I managed to club the two of them on the bonce and escape before they could harm me or take my family's wares."

James made his way up to her, paws upon his hips as he would gazed up at her, doing his best to sound furious "Well next time try asking a person if they're friend or foe before you beat them with wooden spoons!"

Heather moved to place a paw upon James' shoulder, trying to pull him back and step in front of him, shaking her head at him and looking rather apologetically at the squirrelmaiden

"Nevermind him. We have all had a long, long day." said Heather, gesturing to herself "My name is Heather Strikepaw." She then pointed to Harold "And these are my friends. Harold Swiftsmite." She then pointed to James "And James."

The squirrelmaiden gazed at the three of them, giving them a sweet smile. A might better then her earlier frenzied expression. "Heather. James. Harold." she said, nodding to each of them "My name is Rodina Figwhistle. I deliver my family's wares. We are carpenters you see." She points towards the cart. "We were asked to craft a few things for the kitchen at Castle Floret, and I was on my way there before those ruffians tried to rob me."

Harold and James seemed to gesture for Heather - who was closer to Rodina - to ask her for help.

"What a co-incidence! We were just on our way there too. You see..." she said, gazing into the distance, right at the hill they had climbed down "Those ruffians that stopped you?"

"Mhm?"

"They were part of a much, much larger group. Thousands, tens of thousands even."

"Oh my!" Rodina seemed utterly shocked, her eyes wide as she listened to her.

"We were hardly able to escape ourselves...we were hoping we could join you. If you have no qualms with that, of course." Heather's gaze seemed almost pleading, crossing her fingers in hoping she would accept their plea.

Rodina stood there, crossing her arms over her chest and still holding the spoon "Well, I will not let a rabble of rogue roving renegades have their way with this kingdom."

She turned around and put the spoon back in place, picking up her cart and nodding to the three "You can all come with me. If we keep our chins up and keep up the pace, we should reach the castle by morning. Let's hope we can get there before those fiends."

The three looked at one another, smiling broadly at this. Heather dipping her head to Rodina "Thank you, this means so much to us."

James cheered at the notion, running up to the squirrelmaiden and hugging her skirt. "Thank you, ma'am! Oh, thank you! You're our hero!"

Rodina looked down at the mouse, chuckling and slowly patting him on the head, winking at him "Hey, now. Let's not toast to my name just yet, we need to get to the castle first."

After the four reached an agreement, they began walking along the road, the wind slowly beginning to billow a cold, chilling breeze. It was normal for the season, but due to their wet, muddy clothes it was far harsher for the three joining the merchant. Having little to offer them in terms of clothes , Rodina was unable to arrange for warm clothing, though she did agree to let James change into a few spare rags she had been given by her family before she left home and sleep at the back of the cart where it was comfortable. Harold decided to settle down by the little mouse and comfort him, knowing he was both saddened from losing all that was dear to him and vengeful against those who did it.

Heather walked alongside Rodina, chatting with her as they went along, speaking of Hearthbrook and it's inhabitants aswell as the dreaded legion of vermin and enslaved woodlanders and valleyfolk that had served her.

"...I could hardly count how many of them there were. Tens of thousands?" Heather said, giving a shudder at the memory.

Rodina continued to pull the cart along, able to pull the weight of both beasts on-board and the items she was carrying quite well.

"And to think, that amongst them were innocent beasts such as ourselves - drafted into this through enslavement and pressganging."

"Some of them hardly looked old enough to pick up their weapons." Heather said, lamenting the atrocity.

"Yes...I have heard of this before. Hordes have invaded this kingdom before...and they certainly didn't shy away from stooping to such lows."

"I have heard these stories too, my father had his fare share of fighting. But even then - these vermin...the way they acted. The way they looked at Valatha...they are fiercely loyal to her. A leader they respect and fear? Certainly the worst kind."

"I agree...Heather? You did say that one of them made the..." Rodina gave a gulp, looking around with fear in her eyes "Made the ground EAT most of your village? Because I could feel it from very, very far away."

Heather nodded her head to the squirrel, her expression solemn.

"I...don't think I have ever heard of something like this." Rodina shuddered to herself, looking uneasy "I would...be lying if I said it didn't frighten me."

Heather shut her eyes, the very memory if what they had felt and seek making her feel quite sick. "I'm scared to."

The two of them went silent for a moment, gazing at one the ground as they walked on. Rodina finally shook her head, breaking the silence and gathering her courage "Hmf! The nerve of these beasts, tampering with things they probably can't even understand!" Rodina gazed at Heather, a glint of vigor in her eyes "After we warn the King, I'm staying. I want to kick these islanders back into the sea myself."

Heather seemed surprised by the squirrel's resolve. In the short time she had gotten to know her, she seemed quite brave. Feeling inspired, she chuckled to her, running on ahead "Hurry up then! Let's not delay!" she called out, egging her on. It clearly worked, as Rodina picked up the pace.

"Oooh! Come back here, young lady! No beast outruns Rodina's fleet paws!"

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><p>-= Meanwhile =-<p>

**Redwall Abbey**

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><p>Many generations had passed since the last siege on Redwall Abbey. The peace that had lasted through countless seasons seemed to bring out it's true serenity. The creatures of Mossflower occasionally visited the Abbey in order to celebrate, aid those in need and seek council and protection when they felt it was necessary. There were still those who threatened the peace of not only the Abbey but Mossflower itself, but even these petty thieves, hoodlums and muggers tended to be rounded up and pushed accordingly for their actions. A Warrior of Redwall had not been chosen by the spirit of Martin the Warrior in over a hundred seasons, and only recently has the honour -loving and peace keeping foremole Gribs been chosen by the spirit in order to take up this mantle. While many cheered to this momentous occasion , many more dreaded it greatly. For after so many years of peace, this could only mean the coming of great danger.<p>

As the abbeybeasts enjoyed a hearty dinner inside of the Great Hall, the current Warrior of Redwall - Gribs was kneeling by The Pond, holding a ragdoll shaped like a mouse in his paw. The mole was clad in a forest green tunic, over which he wore a well-stitched leather vest and a leather belt around his waist. Attached to this belt was the scabbard holding the Sword of Martin the Warrior himself, which had been kept in good condition regardless of it's years. The blade itself seemed undying and ageless, just as the spirit of Martin was.

"Gribs? Oi! I hope ye' don't intend ta' leap into our Pond an' have me save you again, old friend!" said a hearty old voice, still brimming with wisdom.

Gribs turned his head for a moment, catching sight of the Father Abbot himself, Abbot Claudius. Claudius had been made Father Abbot no more then ten seasons back and had become well loved by the other creatures due to his clever thinking and honesty. Despite his age, he acted as if he was in his prime, even playing and keeping up with the dibbuns from time to time.

"Fadur Abbot! Oi swurr 'ee'll be the deff o' moi widdum frighturs 'ee give oi!" Gribs chuckled at his own words, having been rather startled by the otter.

Abbot Claudius chuckled with Gribs, making his way towards him and looking down at what he had in his paws, giving a puzzled stare. Gribs, anticipating his question, spoke up.

"Oi'll wagurr this'm b'longs 'oo 'un of 'um Dibbuns, Fadur Abbot. Oi've troid t'foind oor loovly Badgur Moddur Elspeth but Oi baint seed nurr hoid nurr furr o'urr."

Claudius furrowed his brow, giving an uneasy grunt as he would look around for a moment, wandering off in a single direction. Gribs slowly rose up, following the Abbot - as he did not want to let him wander around the Abbey alone.

"Strange, I di'nt see Mother Elspeth in the Great Hall. Probably saw the liddle thing an' chased after it. We should keep our eyes open, she may've just lost the liddle dibbun an' started wondering around. Now...where would she be?" pondered Claudius, scratching his oily furred chin in contemplation.

It was not long before the two wondered into The Orchard, both beasts gazing as the walked and talked with one another, each giving their own guesses as to where the Badger Mother had wondered to.

"Oi tell'ee ees'm th' cellur, naw'ffy dibbun pro'lly wan'urr'd in'uu th'cellur t'sneak a siper o' 'Tober Ale. 'Ee be knowen 'ow 'ey be luvvin' durr ale!" Gribs chuckled, winking back to the Father Abbot.

Claudius would share a laugh with his friend as he gazed about "Oh come now! Even me an' my best mates didn't sneak out to do that when we were young'uns!"

"Zurr, dems be woilders dey be nowwer days!"

Claudius would shake his head, opening his maw to reply to his comment, only to stop dead in his tracks. He seemed to be staring straight ahead. Gribs quickly turned his head away from Claudius, and finally caught sight of what he had seen. The Badger Mother - Mother Elspeth Bravewill - in her blue and white dress was sprawled out upon the path, a cloaked and hooded figure standing over her holding a wooden blackjack in one of it's paws. The figure quickly pulled down it's hood and parted it's cloak, revealing a mangy tod underneath it. The red fox's thick black leather armour and the ragged white sash around his torso was well easily recognisable to the two as they looked upon it, it the attire worn by the infamous clan of foxes; the Dirgesinger Rogues.

"Oi'll be bett'un you'sm are oop to nuthen goo' thurr Gangrig!" said Gribs, who promptly grasped the pommel of his blade and removed the Sword of Martin the Warrior from it's scabbard, holding it in front of him in a defensive stance.

The fox - Gangrig - backed off from the body of the Badger Mother, a crooked grin forming on his wicked features, his ears perked up as he kept his eyes on the mole. He did not even try to reach for his dagger.

"Oooh! As usual your blade is sharper then your tongue, Gribs. I see you brought the rotting old corpse with you." A chuckled left the fox's throat as he stepped a good distance away and allowed the two to approach the fallen one.

Claudius paid no heed to the backhanded insult, rushing instead to Elspeth's side, kneeling by her and clutching her head close, checking for signs of life. To his relief, she seemed to be breathing, a nasty bump on her head betraying the fact that the fox knocked her out.

"Gangrig! I wish no 'arm to any other beast but your heart is still as black an' empty as a starless night! Your mates've done nothin' but plague us all and steal from the innocent while you sing your spiteful, bawdy melodies."

Gangrig made no attempts to hide his pride, slowly lowering his paws and placing them on his waist "Typical of you little abbey dwellin' toffs to look down on our own forms of art. Us Dirgesingers do ye all a favour!" he proclaimed, breaking into a curious dance, prancing in place and doing throat-slitting motions

"Weeeee sing you to yer deaths and then we slit yer throats!

Weeee sing and then we slit yer throats!"

He sang out, cackling to himself after doing so, twirling rather quickly in the midst of his dancing and grasping his dagger in mid twirl, pointing it right at the two.

"An' then we take everythin' you own as payment. 'Ows that fer a melody?" he mocked.

Gribs sneered at the fox, Claudius doing his best to pull the Badger Mother out of the way. He knew full well he did not have the strength to carry her all the way back. Elspeth was really as burly as others of her kind, compensating with her minor lack of musculature with her height. She still was quite heavy.

"Nagrin's putt'n 'ee in charge while 'ees goners so you'ms goen troi kick'un a wosper's nest fuhr fun?" Gribs growled in anger, clearly disgusted and angered by the random act of violence and intrusion.

"Hoho! Close enough, you fat, ugly dirt-sniffin' pansy. Nagrin will sadly be late - but I have received the go-ahead to introduce you to someone. The real beast he left in charge." Gangrig slowly lowered his dagger, taking a few more steps back. "We brought in an old ally from the desert!"

Gribs perked a brow at Gangrig's words, still keeping his blade up and his eyes focused on the fox. Suddenly, heavy footsteps could be heard alongside the clinking of armour. Gribs could hear the Abbot gasp and see his terrified expression from the corner of his eye. There was an unnerving trilling sound, before a loud hiss filled Gribs' ears. He was being ambushed.

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><p><strong>[[My apologies for the late update to this series, I have been busy tending to both work and studies - and now that I have much more free time, I should be fully able to work on updating this story far more often! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and feel free to Read and Review! I'd love to see what you think of the story and characters.]]<strong>


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